Snape's Wet and Wonderful Secret
by GhostlyWeirdo
Summary: When Snape is forced to provide counsel for a confused Hermione Granger, Hermione finds inspiration in one of Snape's dirty little secrets. Kink-specific PWP.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. I'm only taking them out to play.**

**Warning: This story will contain kinky behavior of the watersports variety (i.e. urination play) and other mature content. **

The night air was cold and crisp. A slight breeze ruffled Hermione's fluffy hair as she stumbled along, bright moonlight illuminating her path. The thundering beat of loud music faded as she moved further and further away from the sound. Her ears rang from the hours of meandering aimlessly there, a place where no one considered any consequences.

She knew something about disregarding consequences. She was never one to be impulsive. She'd always meticulously thought through her actions in the past, and if she ever reacted swiftly, it was always because she had no other alternative.

She'd had time to think about running away from Hogwarts, but she hadn't actually really thought about it. She'd had other more sensible options, but she hadn't seen them. She'd reacted in the heat of the moment and allowed her emotions to sway her. Her desperation to be done with the bitter darkness and bigotry that littered the wizard world drove her to this place. Rash decisions were made, and now all she could do was wait for the consequences to catch up to her.

She'd returned to the muggle world greeted by an unexpectedly and pitifully empty house. A brief inquiry with a neighbor confirmed her suspicions. Her parents were on a month long expedition backpacking in the mountains of the United States. Without her. Without even telling her.

She'd fought the welling resentment, sitting in her dark, dusty living room alone. She should be happy for her parents taking a fun trip, and she should be glad, having avoided a confusing explanation for her sudden appearance. But she wasn't, and she'd wanted to fall into the comforting embrace of her mother. She'd wanted her mother to stroke her hair and shush her sobs and tell her everything would be okay.

She could only tolerate wallowing in self-pity for so long before she'd lose herself. She'd dialed an old friend from elementary school that she'd barely talked to in recent years, and now here she stood tipsy and vulnerable on a deserted walkway in the wee hours of the morning.

Her vision was blurry. The world spun and her balance was tested. Her weight shifted, her knees wobbled, and her ankles ached, overcompensating with each step. Her high heels rubbed the sides of her feet raw. The skintight strapless dress she'd borrowed for the occasion rode up her thighs and threatened to expose her lacy panties. Boys had looked at her with hungry attention, eagerly awaiting a wardrobe malfunction.

Their stares had Hermione self-consciously hugging her torso, making herself small and covering her exposed skin however she could...

But a small, shameful part of her was intrigued by it. Her classmates had never paid her any attention of that sort. She'd never been lusted after or sought out, but when she behaved boldly, others noticed. People spoke to her, leaned into her space, flashed dazzling smiles at her, hoping to entice her. They laughed at her nervous, lame remarks and took the opportunity to lay a hand lightly on her arm. They wanted to touch her, to feel her skin, to pull her closer.

She liked it. She thought she should feel dirty or used or objectified, but instead she felt wanted, and... she liked it.

A spasm in her abdomen stopped her in place, her hand resting on her extended lower belly. All that alcohol had caught up with her seemingly all at once, but she'd been holding it with ease for at least an hour. Without all of the people and sounds to distract her, she was acutely focused on her blooming need to void her bladder.

This was a problem. She was nowhere near her house, and nearly everything was closed at this time of night. She looked around anxiously taking in her surroundings. She was at the end of a neighborhood road that branched out into a well-traveled highway. There was only one streetlight near enough to give her away, and the rest of the path was dark with trees and shrubbery to hide in.

A thought occurred to her, but could she really do it? If she just went behind those bushes and made it quick...

No, no, of course she couldn't do it! To do something so private out in the open exposed for anyone to walk by and see? She wasn't brave enough, not to mention how gross it was! She couldn't believe she'd thought of it.

She shook her head and continued her slow pace toward the end of the sidewalk, determined to ignore her need. She'd made it far enough that the music from the party was a distant hum when she realized she was a bit beyond tipsy. As she walked, her thoughts became foggier and foggier. She lumbered on, carried forward mostly by momentum.

Too much momentum. She tried to lean back and steady herself, but her ankle turned, and she hit the ground with a heavy thud.

"Ah..." She groaned softly, laying in the grass and debating taking a short nap right there, but the sound of passing cars had her staggering back to her feet. She didn't want the spectacle of people stopping to try and help her. Or worse. The thought had her kicking off her heels to move quicker.

She moved faster unhindered by those horrible shoes, but she discovered she may've been heading the wrong direction. She didn't recognize this new section of road, and she wasn't sure which direction her house was from here. Great, just great.

Her bladder gave another squeezing protest, begging for release and refusing to be ignored any longer. She cursed herself for drinking herself stupid. At this point, she was frustrated enough to try apparating though she hadn't mastered it, but the world was spinning enough as it was without the added world-shifting magic.

She wiggled, assessing her bladder capacity. The move had her grabbing at her crotch trying to withhold the urge to pee. No, she definitely wasn't going to make it until she got home, and she feared she'd wet herself trying. She glanced guiltily around to be sure there were no spectators, but she was sure she was alone.

A nice, secluded patch of grass behind a cluster of trees called to her, and this time, she could not deny it. No one would see. No one would know she'd lost control and demeaned herself in such a way. She'd been reduced to behaving like an animal, but the pursuit of relief was enough to override her reservations.

She was already gripping the waistband of her panties in anticipation when she heard footsteps approaching behind her. Startled, she looked back and saw a dreadfully familiar figure, tall, dark, and imposing, narrowing in on her.

"Going somewhere, Miss Granger?" Professor Snape said, the baritone of his voice gritty with irritation.

If Hermione was sober, she would've shrieked in surprise. Then, she would've quickly recovered her senses and started on a longwinded trail of excuses and explanations to placate the angry man. But she was not sober, and her thoughts and reactions were slow. She stood hunched, wide-eyed, motionless, her hands still at her hips. She dropped them to her sides and straightened when she realized how ridiculous she looked.

He held her gaze firmly, his burning obsidian eyes refusing to allow her to look away. He paused only a moment to allow her a response, but she was speechless.

"Having yourself a big night, are you? Drinking and dancing and gallivanting about with your friends? Did you at least have a good time?" He exaggerated his tone with sarcastic bitterness. "I should hope so, because you, Miss Granger, will be spending every last bit of your free time in detention for the rest of the semester. And how quite fortunate it is for you that Dumbledore is fond of you. If the decision belonged to me, you'd stay here since this is where you so desperately _long_ to be."

She heard the biting, hateful tone and knew that his presence here meant bad news for her, but she couldn't focus on his words. Her body had prepared for release, and her resolve was breaking. She squirmed and clenched her thighs together, but the burning sensation in her urethra was insistent.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, she couldn't hold it!

"Professor, I-" She squeaked between clenched teeth, but her voice only seemed to agitate him further.

"You will be silent. I don't want to hear a word from you unless you plan to explain why you so brazenly defied school rules. Or why your arrogance allows you no other perspective outside of your own."

"I-" Hermione cupped her crotch and pressed hard, no longer caring if he saw her touching herself. He either didn't notice her movement, or he chose to ignore her obvious body language. He was so angry that he cared about nothing other than scolding her.

"Judging by your actions, you clearly see no value in the time of others. I had a multitude of things to complete tonight, but instead, I had to chase down an insolent, self-important girl with nothing better to do than laze about and-" His words were cut off by the sound of liquid splashing the concrete. They both looked down at the puddle forming at her feet.

Hermione gasped and crouched down hugging her knees to hide from his gaze. She didn't want to spread her legs with him watching her, and it was too late anyway. She was flooding her panties, and she was wet from the hem of her dress to her feet.

Snape backed away, grunting his disgust, but Hermione was only vaguely aware of him. The relief was too overwhelmingly good to think of much else. The wet and wonderful sensation in her panties as she filled them, the warm liquid sliding through her tightly-pressed thighs, the feeling of her stream dribbling down the flesh of her bottom, the euphoric feel of an emptying bladder.

It was enough to make her forget where she was and who she was with. Before she realized what she was doing, she threw her head back and exhaled, but bowed her head, wishing she hadn't broadcasted to Snape how much she was enjoying this.

She knew she should be embarrassed, mortified, humiliated, ashamed, disgusted even, to be having a long, satisfying piss with her professor only feet away, but she felt none of it. She only felt good. Was she simply too drunk to care?

At the risk of shattering her newfound confidence, she chanced a glance in Snape's direction to her left. He was standing stiffly, facing straight ahead, his head slightly bowed, gripping his temples with his middle finger and thumb. Hermione tilted her head and squinted at his moonlit pale skin.

Was he trying to shield his eyes with that hand? He wasn't doing a very good job.

She had an unobstructed view of the darks of his eyes, and she could've sworn she saw his eyes twitch, his pupils darting away from the corner of his eyes. He blinked and stared straight ahead of him, his brow furrowed. Hermione's gaze traced the rest of his figure before settling on an unmistakable bulge in the crotch of his pants.

The second she noticed it, he drew his robes around himself, concealing his body from her view. Her mouth hung open at the realization. Whether or not he'd been looking at her, what she was doing made him...

Her cheeks flushed. Had she really seen that? Surely she'd misunderstood something...

With her thoughts in tangled knots, she wasn't ready to make connections, so she filed the information away for later.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her stream trickled to an end. She hadn't realize she was tilting back until she felt the jolting thud of the sidewalk beneath her, her thighs spread wide. She brought them together to save whatever dignity she had left.

She needed to get up, but the sky was spinning. She closed her eyes and groaned, laying undisturbed for a long moment.

She was starting to wonder if Snape was still there when she heard the crunch of gravel under shoes and a deep sigh over her. She blinked up at him, his oily, black hair hanging down toward her. His nostrils flared either in anger or at the smell of urine, maybe both, and he grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet roughly. She staggered at the unexpected momentum, and he sighed again.

"Absolutely pathetic." His voice was a low growl in her ear. She was pressed into his side with his arm wrapped around her waist. She was uncomfortably wet, and she realized with chagrin that she'd landed back in the puddle of urine. Snape was much too close for her current state of mess.

"The levels to which you are capable of sinking continue to surprise me, Granger." His tone was almost smug. Was he enjoying her humiliation? It shouldn't surprise her, as horrible as he'd always been to Harry, and she'd given him quite the reason to be hostile.

She did not respond. Her stomach was rolling unpleasantly, and she had to focus on not vomiting on him in addition to the urine that was surely soaking through his outer robes.

Snape wrapped both arms around Hermione and pulled her against his torso tightly, her face buried in his shirt. He smelled of potion herbs and soap, a smell that may've been pleasant if it didn't add to the overwhelming sensations making her nauseous. "Hold onto me tightly and don't move." He said, and Hermione obeyed, preparing herself for a rough apparition.

The tugging sensation was barely noticeable in her numbed state. She saw the front door of the house of her childhood, and she all but leapt out of Snape's arms for the door. She reached under the welcome mat for the spare key, and after an uncoordinated moment of awkward fumbling, the door was open, and warm air chased away the cold from outside.

She flipped on the light switch and flooded the compact little living room with warm light.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside?" He whispered from behind.

She jumped and turned to face him, surprised once again to find him positively towering over her meager form. His lips were twisted into an offensive sneer as he regarded her with belittling eyes.

"You-You're already in. Sir." Hermione blinked, taking in his position by the front door. She hadn't thought about how snarky the reply was. She'd just said the first thing that came to her mind. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at her.

"Inebriation is no excuse for impertinence, Miss Granger. You'll want to remember to whom you speak and tread carefully." Snape bent near her ear, and his tone slipped into a cold, silky whisper. "That wayward mouth of yours could land you into trouble you aren't prepared to handle." His breath tickled her skin, and she staggered away shivering.

His smug smile returned for a flash before being replaced with a stern, cold glare. "Up to bed with you. And if you have any ideas of leaving this house without my knowledge, allow me to put them to rest. You may no longer be traced by the ministry, but you've placed yourself on my radar. There isn't a place you can go where you will not be found." He held searing eye contact with her, and she felt fresh sweat dewing at her forehead and armpits.

When finally his smoldering eyes released her, she hurried her way up the stairs clumsily only to trip and fall in a crumpled heap across the bottom few steps. She groaned in pain. She was certain she'd heard a dark chuckle, but when she raised her head, Snape had sunken into her father's recliner with his eyes closed and hands folded in his lap.

She let her head fall back onto the stair with a harsh thud closing her eyes. The world hadn't stopped spinning, and he had no intention of helping her up this time. Again, she considered giving up and falling asleep right where she lay, but the cold, soiled fabric around her bottom half had already begun to chafe. It was worth the effort to get up.

With slow, heavy movements, she pulled herself to her feet and hobbled to her bedroom. She barely took the time to remove her wet clothing before curling into a heap in the center of the bed and falling asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione sat stiff and red faced at her kitchen table across from her dour potions professor the next morning. The silence was so absolute that her quiet breaths seemed too loud. She felt Snape's eyes on her, but she kept her own eyes firmly on her hands. She clutched an empty tea mug and fumbled with it, twisting it this way and that.

The image of Professor Snape in her house was strange. All of the rooms had her mother's touch: Quaint and cosy, decorated in floral patterns and old, hand-me-down fabrics. The mismatched knick-knacks were a testament to her mother's scatterbrained and lighthearted personality, and every bit reminded Hermione of her childhood.

Watching Snape, the essence of darkness and gloom, lean back into an old, stained chair with smiling frogs knitted into the fabric almost made her want to close her eyes. He was rubbing a scuffed spot on the wooden arm of the chair absently with his finger, the spot where Hermione had fallen and chipped her tooth in elementary school.

This whole thing, leaving Hogwarts and having Snape track her down to drag her back, may've embarrassed her had she not exceeded the limit of embarrassing behavior. She'd gotten drunk and acted ridiculously with strangers while her professor watched.

If he'd followed her, he must've seen her dance, which would've been the most embarrassing thing she could think of if she hadn't later wet herself right next to him.

And the most embarrassing thing, the thing she couldn't even think about and still stay seated with the man, was the fact that she was wet now, slick with arousal that she didn't understand.

She replayed the memory over and over in her head, reliving the moment she'd dropped to a crouch and released all of her piss into her knickers with Snape standing only a few feet away. The relief had been glorious, good enough to ignore the audience, but she hadn't missed the shift of his eyes as he tried not to stare. He could've walked away or at least turned away, but he hadn't.

Because he'd wanted to watch her. The visibly raised area of Snape's trousers left no doubt about where his mind had been. From the peek she'd gotten, she couldn't help but notice the size of the 'bump' and wonder if he was as well-endowed as he looked.

Hermione's cheeks burned.

Her inner voice scolded her and sounded eerily like Ron.

_What the hell are you thinking about that for? You're a pervert, Hermione Granger, a sick, twisted pervert! _

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that the sound of the kettle whistling didn't stir her. It was only when she looked up and saw Snape's swatting hand gesture that she realized she needed to get it, and by then, he was rolling his eyes and on his feet to retrieve it. He reached for her cup, and she handed it to him, watching him prepare their tea with entirely too much interest.

"We have some things to discuss." He broke the silence, pausing to mix her drink, taking the time to think over his words. "Your behavior last night was... inappropriate, to say the least. Completely unacceptable."

_My behavior!_

She was willing to admit when she was in the wrong, but the hypocrisy was a little too blatant to ignore. Was he counting on a lapse in her memory to save him from scrutiny.

He slid her cup across the table, and Hermione reached for it, her fingers brushing Snape's. The soft, warm feel of his skin surprised her. Because he was thin and bony and his skin looked dry, she thought he would be cold and rough to touch. Her finger twitched and brushed his skin again.

He allowed her hand to linger on his a moment too long before hastily withdrawing it. He blinked and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Something about the move, a clear attempt to reassemble his thoughts, intrigued Hermione. Had she flustered him with a simple touch?

"I doubt you've given thought to the impact your actions have had, so allow me to enlighten you." Snape's eyes raked over her white button-down blouse and returned to her face.

"The fragile climate at Hogwarts has been tipped. Anytime you gather a group of young, impressionable and emotional people together, especially during a period of political strife, maintaining order is the number one priority. Your little stunt has disrupted that delicate order. You've undermined authority to the detriment of the school AND the students." He said.

"I don't understand how i've done that." Hermione was only half-listening. She wasn't interested in being berated.

"Of course you don't, because all of your thoughts are centered on yourself. Take a moment and try to imagine how your actions may've affected some of the other students. You're not oblivious to the fact that many of your peers look to you and your ilk for guidance. They hold you in high esteem, and regardless of your intention, you've set an example, and some are bound to follow it. They're restless because of you."

"I don't know if that's fair." She whispered under her breath.

Snape either didn't hear her or chose to ignored her comment.

"Before we continue, I'll put an end to your suspense. You _are_ returning to Hogwarts with me this afternoon, whether you like it or not. I will hear whatever arguments or grievances you may have, but the outcome is nonnegotiable." He paused and took a long sip from his cup, apparently expecting Hermione to cut in and argue.

She felt no need to interject, and in fact, she was quite content to just sit and watch him.

He met her eyes with a slow nod and continued. "Under the circumstances, I've been charged with fulfilling the role of 'counselor" for you during this 'oh so difficult' time in your young life-"

"Why you?" Hermione asked with sharp, curious eyes. Therapy of sorts with the meanest teacher at Hogwarts sounded horrid... so why had she perked up at the idea?

Snape scoffed. "Your guess is as good as mine." He shook his head and straightened. "Nevertheless, the Headmaster deemed it necessary, and so it will be. You will meet with me three times a week after classes until you resolve what plagues you. Is that clear?"

Hermione held his eyes, studying the flecks of warm brown in them highlighted by the morning sun. When it became clear he wouldn't continue until she acknowledged him, she said, "I understand."

"Good." He gestured for her to take over the conversation. "Now, say your piece."

Silence stretched between them. Hermione might've taken the time to think through why she'd felt the need to run away and maybe even voice it while she had the chance.

But that wasn't what interested her now. she was distracted, looking at the stern man before her. His clothes were wrinkled and looked slept in. So he'd actually stayed the night in her home?

His hair was shinier than usual and pulled back, exposing an especially long and pale neck. The first button of his shirt was open, and the beginnings of two jutting collar bones were showing. His shirt clung to his torso, and she could see a bit of definition where his chest muscles were. She wondered if he had chest hair, if it was coarse or soft.

Her eyes drifted down his thin frame, mostly hidden by his robes. What she really wanted to look at was hidden under the table, and maybe that was a good thing. He was watching her like a hawk, and he wasn't stupid. He would know what she was doing.

She really shouldn't be ogling her professor like this. She really shouldn't. Somewhere within her she knew it was weird and wrong, but she didn't care. She'd never considered him attractive before now, and she still wasn't sure if he was good-looking. She couldn't deny that she was seeing something in him now, something that made her feel uncomfortably warm.

"Well?" Snape's loud voice startled her. "Anything to say?"

"I-" She cleared her throat. "I don't think I have anything to say. Sir." She said, slightly embarrassed when she met his eyes.

"Really? Nothing about what brought all of this about?" He asked. Hermione just shook her head.

"Hm." He breathed, drumming his fingers on the table. "I have something to say about it. I tend to believe it was an ill-planned cry for attention." He said.

Hermione frowned. She wasn't putting up a fight. She wished he'd get off of her case and move on to getting her back to Hogwarts.

But this was the part he enjoyed about having to look after students. The angry, eager look on his face said it all. He waited with bated breath for someone to step out of line, so he could swoop in and let out his pent-up aggression.

Now he was doing it to her.

"Having the entirety of the student populace watching you and praising you wasn't enough. You needed to make headlines." He flashed the newspaper up to reveal the front page. 'Hogwarts Runaway' was all she saw before he dropped it.

"And even that wasn't what you truly wanted. What you wanted was someone to come after you and prove your worth to you. You aren't satisfied unless everyone affirms how _brilliant_ you are, how _appealing_ you are, how _important_ you are. Otherwise, you're afraid you're not actually worth coming after." An ugly, smug smile lit his features. "But please, _do_ correct me if i'm mistaken."

The way his eyes glinted with mean-spirited mirth had Hermione bristling. His words held no truth, and she need not correct him. She was quite confident in who she was, but even so, she wanted to smack that ruthless facial expression right off of him. She balled her fist under the table and rubbed it against her thigh.

But naughty thoughts were lingering in the background. She knew exactly how to wipe that look off his face.

"You're very observant, Sir." She said with a mischievous twist of her mouth. The words she definitely should not say were gathering, and she could not contain them. He'd pissed her off, and she wanted to return the favor.

"Do you always watch me that closely? Perhaps as closely as you were watching me last night?"

Snape's eyes narrowed slightly, and he drew himself up to his full height, possibly to intimidate her. "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about."

"_Hmm_" She mocked his earlier tone. It was Hermione's turn to be smug. "Tell me, _professor, _do you like to watch girls pee? Or is it just something about me doing it that excites you?" She tilted her head and smiled. She wasn't sure where her bravado came from, but it refused to be stifled. And it worked.

Snape's mood shift was instantaneous. His smirk melted into what looked like incredulity before settling into a scowl "You'd better watch yourself, Granger." His tone was low and dangerous, his eyes shifting around suspiciously.

She couldn't truthfully say that he didn't scare her, but she could pretend he didn't.

"You're not denying it-"

"I won't tolerate anymore disrespect from you." He cut her off, clenching and unclenching his fists.

Hermione hesitated, wondering just how far she could push him before he snapped. She decided to try her luck.

"B-But I saw you-"

"_Silencio_!" He flicked his wand and her voice caught in her throat. He stood abruptly, sweeping his robes up in an angry flurry.

"We're going now. And when we return, If I hear any nonsensical, slanderous rumors going around..." He took a deep breath. "You will pay."

* * *

When she returned to the Gryffindor common room late Saturday afternoon, Hermione kept Snape's secret dutifully, even when her friends crowded her for details of what had happened. She'd gotten her revised schedule, with the addition of detentions and meetings with Snape, and then returned to her dorm room to think.

Despite how he'd reviled her and heaped an unfair amount of detentions onto her plate, Snape occupied all of her thoughts. Something about him watching her last night, playing spy while she played unaware, caught her interest.

And, of course, when she'd wet herself, knowing he was standing there watching her, getting hard from the encounter and only looking away when she'd caught him...

In the strangest way, it felt intimate. How could she fault him for a moment of weakness?

To the contrary, she felt a swelling pride that she was able to crack Professor Snape's carefully crafted shell and get a peek inside. It made her feel accomplished and powerful. And devilish and maybe even a little sexy.

She didn't care that he could be a mean, vindictive git. She was curious about him, curious to learn more and see if she could penetrate his defenses.

She couldn't wait for his class on Monday. She tried to focus on her homework in the meantime, but it was pointless. She'd been so focused on her thoughts that she hadn't realized she'd been doodling Snape's name over and over on her essay parchment.

Seated at her table in Potion's class, she was jittery and bounced in place. Snape entered the classroom with a loud slam of the door, silencing all chatter and rustling. Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes following his swift movement up to his desk. He did not look at her, but she hadn't really expected him to pay her special attention.

"Today, we're brewing a calming draught. Directions are on the board." He waved his hand and a spiky scrawl appeared.

Hermione sat up in her seat, trying to make herself visible. She wanted to look into those piercing black eyes and see if she could read out of them what she wanted. Was it really possible that Snape found her arousing? Is that why he was purposefully avoiding looking in her direction?

He sat in his isolated corner of the room and pulled out a large volume, flipping through the pages casually. Hermione bit the inside of her lip as she watched him, wondering how she could get his attention.

Everyone else was gathering their ingredients, so she decided to start on her potion while she thought. Midway through stirring the ingredients together, her eyes flickered over to Neville, who was anxiously chopping his herbs. His nerves and sloppy craftsmanship always managed to draw Snape's eye.

She eyed her own mint-green potion, bubbling beautifully, and frowned. It pained her to do it, but she subtly slipped an extra beetle into the mix. After simmering for a few minutes, the mixture soured into a brown sludge and released a sulfurous smell.

She looked up to the front, but Snape hadn't moved from his hunched position at his desk. Harry bumped her arm.

"What are you doing?" He pointed to her cauldron, holding his nose. She ignored him and focused on Snape.

"Excuse me, sir, I think something's gone wrong with my potion. Will you help me?" She asked hopefully. He didn't even look up from his book.

"Throw it out and start again. There's still plenty of time." He answered in a bored tone.

Her shoulders slumped. She wasn't sure what she'd expected to gain, but she'd hoped he'd at least look at her if not come over and help her sort it out.

But of course he wouldn't help her. He made a better prison warden than he did a teacher.

She was frustratedly cleaning out her cauldron when a naughty idea crept back to her mind. He'd become furious at the mere mention that he may be a little sexually deviant, even when it was just the two of them alone. It seemed to be a sore spot for him, especially for her, a student, to be mentioning it.

She knew just the button to push to get his attention.

She raised her hand a little cautiously.

As expected, he did not acknowledge her and kept his eyes down. She cleared her throat.

"Professor?" She asked, and Snape slowly, with great annoyance, drew his eyes up from his book to meet hers.

The black of his eyes was ice-cold. It made her heart leap, and she almost lost her nerve.

"Er... May I please be excused?" She squirmed in her seat. "I _really_ need to use the bathroom." She said, pitching her voice low in an attempt to be flirtatious.

Dead silence.

Snape's anger seemed to fill the room with such intense presence that others around the room could feel it, and they stopped to watch.

His eyes blazed to life, his face hardened, and lines of anger etched his skin. The purple circles under his eyes almost seemed to darken, and he leaned forward ominously in his seat.

"Go." He growled and jabbed a finger at the door, and Hermione was on her feet hurrying from the room before he could throw something at her.

She was thrilled to have drawn such a response from the man. She counted it a little victory, though she wasn't entirely sure what her end goal was. Was his anger giving her some sort of sexual satisfaction?

Even as she thought it, she felt the blood rushing down below her skirt, and she bit her lip. Snape obviously wasn't the only deviant here. If she was indeed a pervert like her teacher, she wasn't too bothered by it, and she even embraced it.

Her eagerness to get under Snape's skin increased as the week went on. She served her first detention with Snape in his classroom, scraping out the bottom of cauldrons. The only acknowledgement she'd received was a glare at her knock and grunted instructions.

She left him alone to read in his corner until the last five minutes of her detention.

She approached his desk holding a cauldron and wiping the sweat from her forehead. This move would be bold even for her, but she felt a tingle just thinking about it.

"Professor," Hermione moved closer to force him to look up at her. She drew his reluctant eye and pointed to the inside of the cauldron "This crud at the bottom here just won't come off no matter how much I scrub." She said.

He looked her up and down, apparently disgusted by her presence. But Hermione knew better.

"I was thinking while I was working, and I think I have a better solution to cleaning these cauldrons than scratching them all up." She said hardly taking a breath. She could see him about to shut her down, and she would not allow it.

"I'm not interested-"

"Just hear me out. See, you'll almost need something acidic to set in and soften the sediment. I was thinking-" She propped her leg up on the chair next to her, lifted her skirt the slightest bit, and placed the cauldron under it at her crotch. His eyes widened and his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Maybe I could pee into it and let it soak to see if it softens. I could try if you want. I have an awfully full bladder. I could probably fill a few of these-"

He stood from his desk and pointed at the door. "Get out!" He barked, and Hermione jumped in place, reverting to her normal standing position.

"I'm sorry!" She said without thinking. She most certainly was not.

After that, her detentions were with Filch, but that didn't stop her. Every time she saw Snape, she sashayed her hips, squirmed, rocked back and forth with need, and slid her hands between her thighs noticeably close to her womanhood.

She grew more and more desensitized to Snape's fury as he grew angrier and angrier. He barely scared her anymore. He could be furious and show his temper, but what could he really do to harm her? Give her more detentions?

Bring it on.

She showed up to her first scheduled "counseling session" right on time and knocked on the door to his office. No answer. She waited around for another thirty minutes, but it quickly became apparent that he was not coming.

She came to the second one two days later. Again, he did not show up.

So he was avoiding her. She understood why he'd want to stay away from her, but she couldn't help feeling harshly disappointed.

It was in the middle of the hallway on her way back to her dorm that she realized that part of her genuinely longed for Snape's acceptance, even if the rest of her was convinced that she was simply toying with him.

His refusal to see her, even under Dumbledore's orders, was a clear rejection. And it hurt.

After that night, she backed off and kept her head down. She went through the last potions class of the week without looking once in Snape's direction, and she minded her own business. She had another scheduled meeting with Snape that night, one she was seriously considering not showing up for. He probably wouldn't come anyway, so why should she bother?

She knew it was something unhealthy within her that compelled her to wait outside of Snape's office fifteen minutes before she was supposed to be there. She waited with nervous energy, bouncing on her toes. If he didn't show up this time, she wouldn't come again. She was firm in this decision.

So it was with a shaky hand that she knocked on his door promptly at eight in the evening.

"Enter." She heard Snape say quietly, and Hermione was still shaking as she obeyed the command, her heart leaping into her throat.

Snape was perched on top of his desk facing her as she emerged into the dimly lit room. His face was smooth and neutral. It was the first time in awhile that she hand't seen it contorted in anger.

"Sit." Snape said calmly and gestured at the chair in front of him. Hermione hesitated for a moment, noticing how close the seat was to him, but she obeyed. She sat cross-legged and stared up at him as innocently as she could. She wasn't willing to push him this time.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. He was watching her closely, scrutinizing her from head to toe. She was kicking her foot nervously, and when she realized he was watching her movement, she stopped and remained motionless.

Another few minutes passed with him simply staring at her, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Was this supposed to teach her some sort of lesson? Was she missing some point he was trying to make?

Finally he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"You're going to continue to be troublesome, aren't you?" He asked with a resigned look on his face. Hermione's heart thudded unevenly as his eyes searched hers. What answer was he looking for? His tone, his posture, and his expression was confusing her. How could she answer in a way that would please him?

There must've been something in her silence that confirmed something within him. He didn't leave her to wonder long.

"You've asked for it. You demanded my attention, and now-"

He was on his feet and reaching for something behind his desk. With a loud 'clink,' he placed a long, thin beaker on the desk in front of her face.

"You've got it."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione eyed the cylindrical glass on Snape's desk shocked.

He wasn't serious! He couldn't be!

Snape met her eyes with a firm confidence, much like he displayed in the classroom. He _was _serious!

He waited for her to speak, but she had no idea what she was supposed to say. The idea of him giving in to her flirtatious shenanigans was beyond her comprehension. She hadn't thought beyond the mere fantasy.

Snape lightly tapped his fingers on the glass. The beaker made her nervous and curious. She glanced up at him timidly and found that his eyes had never left her. This time his stare was commanding, refusing to let her look elsewhere.

"Well?" He leaned back against his desk with folded arms and a raised brow. "This is what you wanted, is it not?"

_Was_ that what she wanted? A moment ago, she would've said yes, but her clammy skin and the slight tremble in her extremities made her second guess herself. Snape had always seemed so mysterious and outside of her grasp. Now he was presenting her the opportunity to explore with him in a way surely few people had. This _is_ what she'd wanted.

She must've had a stupid look on her face, because Snape chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"You couldn't be more predictable. It's not so pleasant on the other side of a blindsiding advance, is it?" He stood and made to return the beaker to its place.

Hermione felt the chance he'd given her sliding through her fingers. She was going to miss it if she didn't speak up.

"Wait!" She blurted out without thinking. Snape paused with his back to her and his hand gripping the glass. He was listening, a rarity for Snape. Would he be open again if she failed to seize the moment?

"I'm... curious..." Her voice was as small as a little mouse. "About it."

"About what?" He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the low light.

"About..." She looked between him and the beaker, mustering up a little more confidence for her next words. "Your interest."

"My interest?" He mimicked her tone, amused. "I have many interests. You'll have to be more specific."

He was going to make her say it, and it shouldn't be so hard to say! She'd said worse already! "Your interest in watching girls... relieve themselves."

It was harder to talk about with his critical gaze sizing her up.

Snape's eyes widened a little with intrigue. "You've narrowed a broad range of interest into something simplistic." He said thoughtfully. "Perhaps you aren't as knowledgeable as I'd thought. Your forward behavior had me under the impression that you shared my... 'interest.'"

Hermione bit her lip. Would he be reluctant to move forward with her if he knew that she was inexperienced?

He seemed to take her silence as an answer to his thoughts, and while he made no move to revoke the glass this time, Hermione quickly interjected.

"I-I'm a little ignorant, I think, but I'm interested to learn. I think- well -I think I'd like to try-" She cut herself off and blushed when she noticed how intensely Snape was staring at her. He wasn't angry, but his stern demeanor returned as he regarded her.

"This is a sensitive thing we're discussing, Mrs. Granger. I'm not convinced you understand the gravity of even surface level conversation of this nature-"

"Yes, Sir, I understand!" Hermione nodded her head vigorously. She could see him making up his mind and couldn't afford to have him doubt her ability to keep her mouth shut. "I wouldn't tell anyone."

"That is a separate issue entirely." He drew himself up to his imposing height and shot her a scolding look. She made a mental note not to interrupt him again.

"You wouldn't speak a word of it, I assure you." His gaze hardened. "That aside, I find that I'm quite... persistent... once my 'interest' is piqued. I do not often indulge merely curious witches. I usually accept nothing less than commitment from those I... play with." He said never breaking eye contact.

Hermione gulped without meaning to. "Commitment..." She fidgeted with her fingers feeling stupid as she spoke. "As in a relationship?"

"Commitment as in regimen. Routine. Persistence. Obedience. _D__iscipline._" He lowered his head to stare her down. "All mutually beneficial. In the past, I wouldn't have considered loosening these standards, but because you are a unique case, I may have to make an exception."

Hermione's heart thumped unsteadily at his words. There was something in the ominous way he spoke that filled her with want. Even watching him deliberate over her, his reservations slipping as he looked her up and down, excited her.

Without a word, Snape pulled out his wand and tapped the rim of the beaker. It filled nearly to the top with water, and he handed it to her.

"If you're truly interested in this sort of experimentation, prove it. I'm willing to impart some of my experience to you, but you'll need to prove that you're worth my time and trust."

Hermione bounced overeagerly and nearly spilled the water. "How-"

"Shh." He nudged her hand and gently tipped the beaker up toward her face. "Don't speak. Just drink." He said, his voice like silk, and she obeyed without question. He sat back expressionless and watched her gulp down the water.

"The night I followed you, I couldn't help noticing how weak your bladder is. You don't appear to have much control over it, especially to have wet yourself with so little an amount of urine. I briefly suspected you did it on purpose to torment me." He said casually, and Hermione nearly choked. She was glad her mouth was busy, so she wouldn't have to stammer through a response.

"You'll need far more endurance to keep up with me, and I _will_ expect you to keep up with me." He continued as Hermione finished the water. "Not right away, of course. You'll have to build up to it. It may take a few days, weeks, or even months, depending on your motivation, but you will meet my expectations before we proceed."

He took the empty beaker from Hermione and pointed to a line near the top of the glass, 500 mls. The number popped out and flashed red as Snape's finger ran across it.

"Wait a minute." The bright red number stirred Hermione's anxiety enough to finally find her voice. "If you're implying that I'm supposed to fill that... i-if you're expecting me to hold my bladder for that long-"

"I'm not implying it. I'm telling you. Let me know if anything I've said isn't perfectly clear."

"But-But I can't do that! You said it yourself! My bladder is weak! I don't know that my body is capable, and I don't know if it's a good idea to even try that sort of thing."

Snape nodded once. "You know where the door is. You're free to leave at any time."

Hermione gaped at him, her temper flaring. "...So, I bring up legitimate concerns I have about this and am immediately dismissed?" She frowned. He hadn't even bothered to hear her follow up. Obviously he didn't care enough about her comfort or their potential arrangement to foster a back and forth. She bit back the urge to stomp her foot and declare the whole thing unfair. She knew Snape didn't give a damn about what was fair.

His expression tightened as he regarded her. "You said you cannot do it, and I thought I had my answer. I won't prod an unwilling participant." He walked around his desk, sat in the seat across from her, and pulled his stack of essays toward him.

The meeting was drawing to a close, and despite her reservations, she could not have it end this way. "What about my counseling session? I thought the Headmaster decided I needed one on one time with you to help with my stress and anxiety." She said.

Snape's mouth twisted upward at her attempt at stalling. "Very well." He reached inside a drawer in his desk and pulled out what looked to be a hand-bound leather journal with loose folded parchment tucked neatly in between the bound pages. "Read over the writing prompts and respond to them accurately. Keep in mind that I'll be reading over them."

He handed her the journal, and then slowly, deliberately pushed the beaker toward her. She was surprised to see it full to the brim with water again. "My offer still stands. I don't expect perfection. I expect effort. As I've said, everything will be taken at your pace. If your curiosity is insatiable, stay and be sated. If not, leave now and we will never speak of this again."

He sat back and watched her carefully. There was something inviting about the sharp way he looked at her, as though he was daring her to stay and discover more of his secrets. His endless stare filled her with want.

The same wild, impulsive force that drove her to pursue him in the first place had her firmly planted. Or maybe she had some arrogant need to prove herself to this man. Either way, she met his eyes with stubborn resolve and grabbed the beaker, taking a long drink from it. She was rewarded with the faintest approving nod from Snape.

The silence stretched between them. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Snape graded papers while Hermione sipped water. Snape only looked up to refill her glass.

She had questions, but her instinct was to wait for him to address her. She was certain she knew where the meeting was headed, and that was enough to silence her for the moment.

Refusing to focus on anything that may startle her into leaving, she turned her attention to the journal. Inside was an elegant script that she immediately recognized. Dumbledore had written these prompts himself. Her fingers curled around the fabric appreciatively. The idea that she was important enough for Dumbledore to put this sort of thought into made her feel both honored and a little ashamed. She wanted to be worthy of his efforts.

She read through the first page of prompts and questions over and over. Most of them consisted of a brief analysis of her feelings. How was she doing? What things made her feel happiest? What made her feel hopeless? What were some ways that she handled those feelings? Were they productive or unproductive? How could she improve her responses to her feelings?

She felt like an impish child awaiting a scolding. She was surprised the journal hadn't come with crayons to add pretty pictures. Still, she recognized that she'd been wrong to leave Hogwarts and had to answer for it. Answering a few demeaning questions seemed a light punishment.

She'd grabbed a quill from the end of Snape's desk and started to write when she caught his gaze. She followed it to her left leg bouncing rapidly in place. As soon as she stilled the anxious limb, she felt the familiar full feeling in her lower belly. It was already uncomfortable enough for her to consider excusing herself to the restroom, but she shot down the thought.

"Are you nearing your limit?" Snape asked. His expression was blank, but Hermione was certain he was challenging her, insulting her even.

She shook her head once and forced her attention back to her journal. For a few minutes, she was able to distract herself handily. She answered down to question ten when her bladder spasmed. She squished her bottom into the seat and squirmed to keep from releasing where she sat. Her eyes flashed back up to Snape, who only raised an eyebrow in question.

With a deep breath, she sat back in her seat. She could hold out a little longer.

"If you wet yourself, we'll have to repeat the previous thirty minutes until you can control yourself." He warned. Hermione didn't acknowledge him.

Another long, increasingly difficult fifteen minutes passed. The bulk of the water she'd drank hit her all at once, and she tossed the journal aside, focusing fully on holding her bladder. Snape followed her lead and shoved his papers to the edge of his desk. He rested his head on steepled fingers setting his eyes fiercely on her.

Hermione was bursting. She rocked back and forth in her seat with thighs clenched together. It took all of her self control to stay in her seat and not run from the room seeking a restroom. She knew exactly where she was expected to go, and though the prospect may've been mortifying, all she could think of was relief. Her hand slinked down between her thighs to cup herself.

Snape was at her side before she registered his movement handing her the empty beaker. She shook her head but clenched it to her chest. "I can hold it."

"Don't overextend yourself the first time. If you're at your limit, don't fight it." He said standing over her. She gritted her teeth and steeled herself, ignoring his direction. Just a little longer.

Minutes dragged by, and she could feel Snape's disapproval deepening. Better to keep him wondering and surprise him with her resolve than remain predictable.

She gasped once, tried to reel it back, and found herself panting quietly with effort. It was becoming apparent she was fighting a losing battle.

She relinquished the smallest amount of her grip and leaked into her panties, soaking the fabric.

She leapt to her feet and immediately hunched to keep from wetting herself.

"I can't hold it!" She said, looking to Snape for direction. He merely stood back and leaned against the wall. "Go ahead."

Her cheeks burned. Of course, she'd known he was going to watch her. That was the whole point, wasn't it? She'd wanted this and the rush that accompanied it, but actually being in front of him, staring at her, looking her up and down with unyielding eyes while she was vulnerable... it was too embarrassing to comprehend!

Where had she found her nerve before? Why wasn't it returning and filling her with overconfidence?

"You might consider removing your undergarments. It'll be hard to complete the task as you are." Snape's deep, sarcastic voice rang loudly in the silence.

With one shaky hand, Hermione reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down to her knees, exposing a large, damp spot. Placing the glass up against her bare skin, she closed her eyes and waited. Nothing happened. She pushed a little and hit a wall.

Her bladder squeezed painfully. She willed her muscles to relax, but they tightened traitorously against her pushes.

"Ah... stage fright." She whispered shakily after a minute of nothing but awkward silence had passed.

"Take your time." He said.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Maybe I'd be able to relax a bit... if you weren't standing so close... and staring..."

He remained motionless. "You'll need to get used to this." He said with finality.

If this was his way of easing her gently into this, he was mistaken. Again, she wanted to leave and have her privacy. She was fully covered and still felt the need to hide. The only thing keeping her locked in place was her stubborn need to prove herself. She could do this. It wasn't really all that big of a deal. She'd done it before.

Closing her eyes again and putting Snape far from her mind, she focused on sensations. The pressure of her full bladder resting in her lower abdomen, her pulse radiating downward, the cool rim of the glass contrasting against the heat of her skin. Warm, everything was so warm. The air in the room was stifling.

Wasn't thinking of running water supposed to help this sort of issue? She thought of sinks, tubs, rivers, waves, and waterfalls with no result.

Maybe if she could channel the same shameless energy from the night she'd been unable to hold back, she'd be able to go.

She thought of the feeling of warm liquid on her thighs, trailing down her bottom, the splash of it hitting the ground. The sweet feeling of release had sent a pleasant tingling through her.

She dripped into the beaker, but her muscles clenched when she tried to push again.

She grunted and tried to relax her muscles once again. A tiny stream broke the silence in the room, and she sighed in relief. It lasted about five seconds, and her muscles clenched again.

She wiggled her hips eager to empty her bladder faster, but she only dripped. She pushed hard and forced a short squirt into the glass. Again and again, she pushed and slowly emptied her bladder. When finally her pee dribbled to a stop, her muscles twinged and her bladder still felt full, but she didn't want to fight her body anymore. She'd go use the restroom properly when she left for the night.

She removed the beaker from under her skirt, placed it on Snape's desk, and quickly pulled her panties up feeling inadequate.

He eyed her for a moment before reaching for the glass. He held it up to his face to examine it closely, and she bowed her head unable to watch him.

"You barely made it to 200 milliliters. Are you sure you're done?"

She said nothing and avoided his eyes, but her bladder ached.

"Hmm." He placed the beaker back on his desk. "200 milliliters is well below satisfactory. It would seem your diffidence got the best of you this time." He said and went back to his desk, grabbing his stack of papers.

"W-Wait..." Hermione said dully. "Is that it?"

"You've failed to reach my expectations this time, Granger." He said already inking the parchment. "You can always try again next time." He said simply.

Anger bubbled to the surface of Hermione's countenance. After getting herself all worked up, after the discomfort and confusion, she felt blindsided by his dismissal.

"Is that really all you have to say?" She said, biting her tongue to avoid flying off the handle.

He never looked up from his grading. "All I can do is suggest you take steps to become more comfortable urinating with an observer. Perhaps take a friend with you next time you visit the restroom. Use your imagination and come up with solutions." He said, and his posture made it clear that he would say no more. Without another word, Hermione slipped from his office with the ridiculous thought of asking Ginny to watch her pee ripe in her mind.


End file.
